Thursday, March 23, 2006

It must be true. Your child does something so annoying that you're on the verge of murder -- and then they give you "The Look." You know the look....the one with the big puppy dog eyes, and maybe, if they're wily and crafty, they throw a hug and an "I love you, Mom! You're the best!" in there just for extra measure.

This theory of mine was put to good test recently by Offspring. She was courting imminent demise by neglecting to tell me about (or to even attempt to begin) the Science Fair project that she's known about for over a month. Apparently, her teacher had decided to team three or four students together to do projects, and Offspring and her "team" hemmed and hawed over even choosing a project, much less doing actual WORK on said project.

Offspring decides to ask me for help in cobbling together some sort of project that she can turn in -- this is on a Monday. The project (which includes the "project", a research paper, a display board, and a logbook that the students were supposed to be keeping for the past month, detailing their experiments and their progress.) is due on Wednesday morning.

This is when the red haze descended over my eyes, and I sorta blacked out for a while. I probably broke at least 1 commandment during this time. I know I broke my Lenten vow to give up cursing.

After my tirade, I grounded Offspring, and then headed out to find some supplies we needed. The project got done in the end. I just wonder what grade we....uh, I mean, *she* got.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

At work or in school: I like to be with people, sharing with them, inspiring them, and helping them. I work and learn best when I can take into consideration people and the human element. I flourish in an atmosphere of cooperation.With friends: I always look for perfect love. I am very romantic, and I enjoy doing thoughtful things for others. I am affectionate, supportive and a good listener.With family: I like to be happy and loving. I am very sensitive to rejection from my family and to family conflicts. I really like to be well thought of and need frequent reassurance. I love intimate talks and warm feelings.Take this quiz!

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

I would complain that the monkeys are back at the newspaper, slaving away over hot typewriters, but it's actually not the local rag's fault this time. Thistime.

There was an item the other day, shortly after the "kid in the trunk" episode, about a 3 year old boy (what IS it with 3 year olds in this town lately? Is it the drinking water, maybe?!?) who was found wandering alone in a not-so-great neighborhood at 1am. A patrolling officer noticed the small child, and approached him. The child said he'd gotten up after everyone in his house went to sleep, got dressed, and left the house to go to his grandmother's. The child didn't know his address, or the address of his grandmother. The patrol officer took the child to the Family Services home. The newspaper goes on to say that shortly afterward, a call came in about a missing 3 year old. The caller, a female, said she was asleep while the child's grandfather stayed awake, drinking. ( oh, yeah -- this one's gonna be a lulu!) When the grandfather turned in for the night, he locked the door, and went to bed. The reason he made sure he locked the door, esteemed readers -- wait for it -- is because a similar incident had happened at this same residence a year before. Let me repeat that. This is not the first time this child has done this. He had a history of leaving the house in the middle of the night! At two and three years old!

I've said it before, and I'm sure it won't be the last time -- it truly boggles the mind.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

You know how sometimes you see an article in the newspaper, and you're almost 100% positive that monkeys chunked it out on typewriters? How else could we explain the lack of *actual* news in most, if not all, so-called "news" stories? How can you explain the great print coverage of such earth-shattering news of Brad and Angelina's latest exploits? Or the newest idiotic thing our President has broadcast to the world at large? What so-and-so wore at the Oscars? Or the world-changing study that Harvard scientists are doing to link together the comsumption of milk and adolescent obesity? Anything at all involving Paris Hilton?

No, that can't be true! Monkeys might actually make sense once in a while.

I was reading a local paper to discover a story about a routine traffice stop gone awry. What happened was this: A man is loitering in a known drug sales area. Police see the man, and decide to stop and question him. During the questioning, which is taking place on the street, the man panics, and decides to lock the doors to his vehicle with the keyless remote that's located in his pocket. Only, the suspect inadvertently hits the wrong button, and manages to pop the trunk instead. The police, being the highly-trained, inquisitive individuals that they are, see the trunk pop, and go around the back of the car to investigate. (At this point in time, it's my contention that the suspect should hereby nominate himself for the Darwin Awards "Honorable Mention" category.) In the trunk, the police find cocaine, crack, marijuana, and a 3 year old child. The police decide, based on the evidence in the car, they have due cause to search the man's apartment. They do, and find more drugs, a digital scale, and $160 in cash. The suspect is booked for possession of a controlled substance, and possession with intent to distribute. Here's the part that boggles the mind: There is no further mention of the child! Not word one. It's like they listed him (or her -- we don't even know the child's gender!) as yet another illicit substance that was stashed in the trunk for later distribution. We don't know who he is, even if he's alive or dead. Never mind why the hell he's in the freaking trunk!

As if that wasn't bad enough, the thought remains that some editor, somewhere, probably approved that story. No wonder I stopped taking the local paper.

Monday, March 06, 2006

This weekend, we had a Cookie Booth at the local Harley-Davidson dealership. (I know -- don't get me started about the incongruity of Girl Scout cookies and bikers...)

So, we stood out in the blazing sun for 3 hours. The day was supposed to be cool and overcast. It wasn't. It was bright and sunny, without a cloud in the sky. We had no shade. I manned the money box side of the booth during this time, and ended up with a killer sunburn on one side only. Aren't I just a lovely shade of hot pink? I even had to go to the school nurse today to see if she had some aloe gel or some Solarcaine, just to get me through the rest of the day. You know you've got a nice sunburn when you have to take off your necklace because it hurts too much.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Do you guys even remember me? It feels like it has been so long since I posted that I'm sure you've all dropped me from your blogrolls!

I'm still here. Busy at work, busy at Girl Scouts. Busy, busy, busy.

Trying hard not to lighten my slight depression over being the size of a small Orca by eating a case of Girl Scout cookies and thus compounding the problem.

I have a friend who has a marriage that is fracturing, and it's tough to toe the line of friendship between husband and wife as both were our friends. It's also tough to see so many years together devolve into hurtful barbs at each other.

I did have a bit of a chance at some "me time" this weekend, though -- JF was kind enough to not grumble too loudly when my Girl Scout unit sprang a surprise, last-minute adults-only stamping/scrapbooking night together. We had a great time, and I hope we get to do it again soon.

We are firming up plans for a St. Patrick's Day weekend getaway to St. Augustine, Florida to further our familial obsession with all things piratical. We plan to stay in a hostel/inn in the Historic District called, oh-so-appropriately, the Pirate Haus. We wanted to stay in the Pirate Room, but it was booked. We did get to book the Map Room. We have plans to visit the Castillo de San Marcos, the old town area, Potter's Wax Museum, and Offspring has begged for us to take her to the Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum.